


I would tell you that I loved you (If I thought that you could stay)

by m_feys



Series: I gotta get out (and make this better) [1]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: AU Ianto doesn't die during COE, Bittersweet, Communication, Date Night, Emotions, Established Relationship, Introspection, M/M, POV Ianto Jones, Romance, even though theyre both allergic to that, so he and jack get to talk about their feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:47:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23038072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m_feys/pseuds/m_feys
Summary: Now, Jack is turning their hands over and looking at them as if he's examining how they fit together. Ianto follows his eyes and studies their hands. Jack's wide, and tan, and calloused from handling guns, Ianto's long-fingered and pale and steady from handing out mugs.
Relationships: Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones
Series: I gotta get out (and make this better) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1740862
Comments: 15
Kudos: 115





	I would tell you that I loved you (If I thought that you could stay)

**Author's Note:**

> title from boys don't cry by morgxn because that song has these two written all over it

They decide to walk to the upscale restaurant. They're close enough that their jackets brush together as they move, but they don't touch. They often don't. Ianto used to be content with that, had been happy about it, even, that he could pretend to be something other than deeply in love with this man in the eyes of other people.

Now he's not so sure, but Jack still doesn't touch him in public, save for the reassuring hand to his shoulder on special occasions. No, Jack reins himself in. Ianto is not sure he'll ever have a proper scope of just how much. But he understands that the culture Jack had been born into, one some three thousand years into the future, was one where touch was freely given and love didn't get held back. Jack had changed so much since he was a young man, that was something Ianto could easily understand.

Right now, he's traded in his slacks and suspenders for a proper suit, a deep grey color with a pale blue dress shirt. It's buttoned-up neat and his hair's been slicked back. He looks like someone who stepped straight out of 1945, as he often does, even more so now. Ianto is certain the look is more than love for the aesthetic, there must be something about the era he's particularly fond of. The tie he's wearing is coral blue with deeper blue swirls twisting across the fabric. Jack knows its one of his favorites.

They sit at their reserved table, it's one on the second floor, by the window with a stunning view of the bay. You can see Flat Holm from here, though the island dark, save for the faintest of lights in the distance.

Ianto shrugs off his jacket and drapes it on the chair behind him, with Jack following suit. Ianto has on one of his nicer three-piece numbers. It's deep black with an embroidered vest, delicate white vines decorating the dark fabric. The vest makes a fine cut of his figure in a way he knows Jack appreciates. His shirt is a stiff, clean white but the tie he's worn is a deep red blooming at his throat. Jack loves him in red, for the way it compliments his eyes.

Jack smiles at him where they sit across from one another, "What do you think of the view?" Jack asks, never one to stay silent for too long.

"Amazing." Ianto smiles back. The couple's table with a candle burning in the center is an unmistakenly romantic venue for them, though Ianto wouldn't mention it. He knows how Jack gets when he starts commenting on the specifics of their relationship. The annoyance he has about how much Ianto cares about definitions, and other people's opinions.

Ianto desperately wants to broach the topic of exactly _what_ they are but he has no idea how, when Jack seems so reluctant to invest any words in them. Maybe they're not what Ianto thinks they are, so often he's not sure.

Jack's hand has come to rest in the middle of the table, it's an invitation. On nights like these Jack always reaches for some sort of physical contact, even in public, like they're playing romance on these nights.

Jack will take Ianto home, and if Ianto initiates it, they'll hold hands as they walk. He'll wait to see if Ianto invites him up to his flat (he always does), and it's not as if Jack needs to be invited, he does have a key, after all. And they sit and talk and kiss until they've strewn those nice suits on the floor and Jack stays the night with him, and Ianto watches him sleep sometimes, studying the way his face shifts as he dreams.

He wonders if, tonight, because they're playing romance, they could do the sorts of things that couples do. That maybe he could ask.

He crosses his ankles under the table, he knows Jack will keep his feet flat on the floor until he gets bored and decides to rub his calf against Ianto's leg and curl his foot behind Ianto's ankles and try to urge him closer. The thought brings an amused tilt to his smile as he leans forward and meets Jack in the middle, sliding their hands together. Jack tightens the grip of his relaxed fingers to grasp Ianto's hand in return. It's so simple, he wonders if Jack is aware of how it makes his chest ache with want.

They pick up their menus and peruse them languidly, they have all night, after all.

"I'm thinking about the chicken and mushroom pasta. How about you?" Jack asks conversationally. He always tries something new when they go out together. Ianto always steals a few bites.

"Would you believe it? I'm thinking of trying the fish," Ianto tells him, grinning wryly. If they come to this particular restaurant he always gets fish, he'd tried it the first time they came and it was so good he never could bring himself to get anything else.

"No," Jack gasps, grinning too, "finally stepping out of your comfort zone?" He teases.

"I know what I like," Ianto tells him, smirking in return.

Now, Jack is turning their hands over and looking at them as if he's examining how they fit together. Ianto follows his eyes and studies their hands. Jack's wide, and tan, and calloused from handling guns, Ianto's long-fingered and pale and steady from handing out mugs. He watches the way Jack's thumb plays over his knuckle, touch feather-light. They're just _playing_ romantic, Ianto tries to remind himself.

"Well, you'd better get something green as one of those sides," Jack advises him, smiling sharply. Jack is well aware of his aversion to vegetables and always urges him to eat them at every chance he gets. The fact that Jack knows and notes these simple little things about him makes him feel so achingly fond.

The waiter comes and they place their orders, Jack gets water to drink and Ianto asks for wine. They don't let go of the other's hand like they might have when they first started going out on dates. Just _playing_ romantic, he tries to tell himself as if Jack hasn't got his eyes trained only on him, looking like Ianto might be the only person in the universe. As if Jack's smile hasn't softened around the edges, becoming something so tender. As if they didn't have nights like these on the regular, nowadays.

But, things _have_ changed now, haven't they? It's been months since the last, "end of the world," the horror that was the 456. Months since he'd watched Jack break once more. Months since he'd learned more about him than ever before. He _knew_ Jack Harkness, and that was something he'd worked towards, something he wasn't planning to let slip from his grasp.

And Ianto was different now too. Rhiannon knew about them, not by his choice. But one of her friends had seen him in a place like this, seen the way he looked at Jack. She knew now. They weren't exactly how he had described it, because he never was so straight forward as to give anyone _everything_. Except for certain exceptions, people he was in so love with he could never hold it back.

But Ianto already knew how to appreciate men, just as well as women, but it wasn't any lie that _Jack_ was so starkly different from any other person he'd ever met. Maybe subconsciously he'd been trying to tell her that. But it was the same with those little lies he told about his father, the sort of fantasy he'd rather be true. That Jack was the only man for him, some singular revelation, and that his father was a sharp-eyed tailor, instead of a drunken mechanic with a penchant for pushing too hard.

He and Rhiannon had never been especially close, but he still cared for her, she was his sister after all. And he was so fond of Mica and David, he'd always had a soft spot for kids, especially when he'd watched them grow up. Johnny, he'd rather not contemplate his opinion on, seeing as it wasn't particularly polite.

But now they knew him too, the last of his family actually had some idea of what he was. They now grasped the inclination that he was in love with this impossible man and he did impossible things every day. Rhiannon emailed him more often now, telling him how the kids were, and demanding visits, and stories, and explanations. And Ianto found he wasn't so annoyed with the more rapid interruptions to his life at Torchwood. These things that are shifting the tone of who he could be.

"Jack," he speaks seriously and its sort of intimidating that he's been watching Ianto this entire time. Those keen eyes of his, always intense in some way. Tonight, they are intently watching him, tracing over the shape of him as if Jack needed to drink him in. As if Jack didn't see him every single day.

"Hm?" The man hums, his face sobering instantly, he easily senses the tone change. But his thumb doesn't stop its minute movements over his knuckles and Ianto takes comfort in that fact as he inhales shaky breath.

"Jack, I know you, hate labels and when I..." he hesitates and stumbles over the words, "ask this kind of thing, so I—"

"Hey," Jack cuts him off, gently, "you're rambling," he points out. He knows its something Ianto only ever does when he's nervous and trying to compensate for something. "I'm not angry, just ask."

"Are you going to leave me?" Ianto blurts out at his prompting.

Something in Jack's eyes looks utterly heartbroken at the suggestion, but his face barely shifts.

But Ianto can't stop now that he's started, "Once something better comes along, will you just leave?" _Like before,_ goes unspoken. "What would keep you here?"

"I told you," Jack starts speaking, his voice hard as steel and gaze lowered now. He hates having to repeat himself. "I came back for _you_ ," he informs him solidly, punctuating the sentence by meeting his eyes again with that piercing gaze.

"So this?" He says, brows raised and lifting their linked hands in demonstration, "lasts for as long as you want it to," his voice softens into a lower register, "as long as you'll have me." He leans forward now to press his lips to Ianto's knuckles.

"And how long would you have me, if you could choose?" The words seem to be rushing out of his mouth, unable to stop himself even when he knows the question is cruel to both of them.

Jack stares at him for an extended moment, silent and tense.

"Please tell me the truth," Ianto adds at a whisper, desperate to know even when he knows the answer will break his heart.

Jack just blinks at him for a moment and it's not until he speaks that Ianto realizes the shine in his eyes is that of unshed tears. " _Forever_ ," his voice breaks over the word.

Ianto can't breathe. Insanely, he wants to laugh, the idea that Jack Harkness wants to stay with him forever is ridiculous. But here the man is, close to tears and voice unsteady when Ianto has asked him for the truth. He surges forward, leaning across the table and catches his lips, putting every feeling he can't say into the kiss. It always has been their most effective form of communication.

It's awkward at this angle, with a table between them and Jack still in his seat. But he rises to meet Ianto and their hands are still clasped together and there's one of those big warm hands caressing his cheek now. Ianto feels the dampness of tears as his nose brushes Jack's cheek. He pulls back enough to look at his face, and lets go of Jack's hand to brush away the tears. his other hand braced against the table for balance.

"I would stay with you forever," Ianto murmurs in return, thumbing away tears.

Jack pulls away from him abruptly, dropping back down into his chair.

"But you can't," Jack points out to him, a bitter smile playing on his lips now. Ianto has nothing to counter that. He sits back down too then, warmth growing in his own eyes. He wonders how many people Jack would choose to spend forever with. He thinks, probably everyone he cares for, all those thousands and thousands of people he's met and loved. He would keep everyone close forever if he had the choice.

A wave of anger rises within Ianto suddenly, that Jack doesn't get an end. Jack doesn't get to live his life around who he chooses before letting go like everyone else. Jack has to just keep holding on. It's not _f_ _air_.

Ianto holds out his hand for him again suddenly, " _Jack_ ," he says insistently when the man doesn't look up at the movement. He twitches his fingers expectantly, Jack gives him his hand but he doesn't look happy about it, staring Ianto down ruefully.

"Let's make the most of now, then?" Ianto suggested, keeping his tone deliberately light and meeting Jack's harsh stare head-on.

His gaze softens at that and slowly the corners of his mouth lift, "Let's," he agrees, voice still thick with emotion, but Jack is relaxing once more. They have right now, Ianto is going to make sure that matters.

**Author's Note:**

> this work will probably become part of a series as i develop this au
> 
> comments and kudos are very appreciated!!


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